


Kissing The Curve

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has no idea how he's allowed to have this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing The Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Alkaline Trio - Clavicle.

Sometimes Derek just lays there, his hand splayed across Stiles’ bare chest, and watches the rise and fall as Stiles breathes evenly in his sleep. Stiles’ legs are spread, one knee resting against Derek’s thigh. His head is turned towards Derek, mouth slack, eyelids occasionally twitching in reaction to whatever dreams are rushing through his head. Derek’s still not sure how he’s allowed this, how they got here - a place where Stiles can be completely relaxed with him. Stiles trusts him so entirely, Derek wants to ask the world why he has been given a gift he’s not deserving of.

Stiles isn’t fragile, he’s told Derek this numerous times, has gone toe to toe, face to face with Derek over this. He’s yelled at Derek and come close to hitting him because of it. They’ve fought more over Derek attempting to protect Stiles than any other subject. Derek likes it, sometimes. He likes that Stiles isn’t afraid to fight him on this, on anything. He needs to know that Stiles will always be willing to push. It’s who Stiles is.

So Derek knows Stiles isn’t fragile. But here, in the faint early morning light that is sneaking through the gap in the curtains, Stiles looks so very breakable. He’s not, Derek knows he’s not - Stiles came back from college having learnt his own strength. Derek has felt that strength so many times now, has let Stiles use it to hold him down, has nipped at Stiles’ thigh muscles, brushed a hand across Stiles’ stomach and enjoyed the solid feel of Stiles laying against him.

Derek has also traced the scars that the fights have left on Stiles. There aren’t as many as there could be, Stiles and Deaton worked together to whip up some kind of healing lotion, and Stiles is almost fanatical about keeping a stash on him at all times. Derek knows there should be more scars on Stiles, that the things they’ve faced should’ve left marks. If Stiles would let him, Derek would be able to trace where all those prevented scars should be marking Stiles’ skin.

Stiles doesn’t like it when Derek protects him. He says he’s perfectly capable of defending himself and Derek believes him. Derek just doesn’t want to take that chance. That one day he could be too late, or he could not be there, and that would be it. That Stiles would be gone. Because Derek cannot handle that. It would be - hell. Derek thought he’d known hell already, but Stiles brought him out of that - Derek was sure that one day he would go too far and Stiles would give up on him. Leave.

But.

Stiles didn’t leave. Derek never managed to push him away hard enough for it to stick.

If Derek lost Stiles now, he would know what hell truly felt like because there would be no one left to bring him out of it.

Stiles shifts slightly, his arm comes across to rest over his stomach. He’s still asleep and Derek’s still watching the rise and fall of his chest. It’s a reassurance that Derek enjoys, something simple he never thought he’d be able to have.

Derek isn’t sure how long he stays like this, but he feels it when Stiles’ heartbeat quickens and watches as Stiles sleepily opens his eyes. It takes a moment for Stiles to focus on Derek’s face, but when it does his mouth twists into a smile and he hums happily. Derek moves a little closer and rubs his nose against Stiles’. Derek feels the laugh more than he hears it, his hand jolting with the rumble of Stiles’ chest. He breathes in Stiles’ scent before he rolls over, tugging Stiles against him. It’s always a thrill when Stiles lets Derek do this and Derek can’t help but smile when he feels Stiles press a kiss against his clavicle.

Stiles’ grin turns naughty as he stretches out on top of Derek, biting his lower lip when their half hard cocks brush against each other. Derek hisses out a curse before he grips Stiles’ hips, stopping him from moving. They communicate easily without words, years of practice in battle put to far more pleasant use here. Derek holds Stiles in place and ruts against him as Stiles buries his face in Derek’s neck, biting marks into Derek’s skin that he wishes wouldn’t fade. Stiles is almost limp, letting Derek set the pace, letting him control this. Derek is an expert in listening to Stiles, in knowing what the bitten off moans that almost escape from Stiles’ mouth mean. He digs his fingers into Stiles’ hips and waits for the quiet whine that Stiles isn’t even aware he does, before Derek pushes up against him and lets out a tiny groan when he feels Stiles come between them. Derek’s movements get slightly more frantic, the early morning lazy pace gone, he squirms and thrusts against Stiles until the friction hits him just - there and he’s coming, hands still pulling Stiles tightly against him.

Derek catches his breath as Stiles plants sloppy kisses on his jaw, occasionally darting his tongue out to lick at the stubble covered skin. Stiles grimaces when he moves, the slick mess between them making itself known. Derek gives in to the urge to run a finger up Stiles’ spine, he smirks at the shudder the touch coaxes from Stiles, before he kisses Stiles on the forehead softly. Stiles rolls off him, reaches for the closest item of clothing on the floor and makes an effort at cleaning them up before he flings it in the direction of the laundry pile. Derek lets Stiles rearrange his body until they’re both curled up around each other, he sighs when Stiles brushes his lips against the corner of Derek’s mouth, mumbling sleepy endearments that only Derek is able to hear. He nuzzles against Stiles’ cheek and closes his eyes, the feel of Stiles’ soft breath against his skin lulling Derek to sleep.


End file.
